


and a few minutes on friday

by summerstorm



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Future Fic, M/M, Touring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-16
Updated: 2010-01-16
Packaged: 2017-10-06 08:52:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/pseuds/summerstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For kradamite in the Jan. 16 ontd_ai dollar drive. :D</p>
    </blockquote>





	and a few minutes on friday

**Author's Note:**

> For kradamite in the Jan. 16 ontd_ai dollar drive. :D

Adam gets through a month of his European tour before Kris somehow winds up booking a week of recording sessions in London just a few days after Adam leaves England.

It's like the world is on someone else's side, and he's not even going to—he had Kris to himself for three months before the tour, and Kris doesn't seem all that affected by all this. If Kris can do long-distance, Adam can do long-distance.

He lasts a grand total of forty-eight hours before his patience cracks and he hops on a plane to London before he—or his publicist, or his band—can change his mind. It's not like he's not pulling all-nighters on tour all the time anyway—Europe is small, a few hours on a plane shouldn't hurt that much.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Norway or something right now?" Kris says when he closes the door behind him, raising an eyebrow as Adam takes off his scarf without saying a word. He's kind of breathless from running up the stairs. It just seemed like the thing to do, when you're trying to surprise someone, sweep them off their feet. Maybe not his brightest idea, though.

"I am," Adam says. "I sneaked out. Got on a cab, paid cash, no one pushed a camera into my face. It was pretty smooth."

Kris snorts. "You're a regular Sydney Bristow," he says. He's leaning against the back of a couch when Adam looks up. It's a nice suite, more cozy than large or luxurious, the kind Kris tries to book when he's staying somewhere for longer than a single night.

"Uh huh," Adam says, throwing his coat over the back of a chair and stepping right into Kris's space. He cups the back of his neck and Kris arches into him, eyelids fluttering closed and lips parting easily, and Adam kisses him _hard_, does what he should have done the second Kris opened the door.

He's not here to discuss his latent abilities as a fucking spy.

"We have twelve hours until my flight back, about six before people getting my voicemail tell the press I'm dead," he says, taking a step back. "Is there anything you want to do before I take your clothes off?"

Kris blinks wearily and licks his lower lip, reddish and already a little swollen. "I could use a drink."

"I don't have anything poisonous on me," Adam says with a shrug. Kris tilts his head meaningfully and looks him up and down, like it's entirely possible Adam's presence qualifies as alcoholic. They've been together for a few months now, but it's still pretty fucking flattering. "Airport security confiscated my good Scotch."

"I could use a massage," Kris suggests. "I've been on my feet all day. Actually, I think a massage might be necessary if you don't want me to just lie back and think of England. Or Norway, as the case may be." He grins slyly, and Adam laughs.

"I do have my hands with me," he says.

"They let you check those in, did they?"

"They're pretty laid-back about body parts."

Kris chuckles. "Those crazy Europeans," he says, and lets himself be pushed towards the bed, sitting down when the mattress collides with the back of his knees.

"The shirt needs to go, though," Adam says, low and growlier than he intended.

"Pretty sure doing stuff with clothes on is overrated anyway," Kris says.


End file.
